Shadow of the Day
by prplerayne
Summary: It's been one year since the Montana trial. How is Lindsay coping?


Shadow of the Day

A/N: Okay, so this isn't exactly connected to "Damn Regret" but it flows with it. You don't have to have read that one to understand this story; however, if you'd like to read it, I'm not going to try and stop you.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY or anything associated with it. These are just my ideas sparked by the show and the existence of the wonderfulness that is Danny and Lindsay. Please don't sue; it would only cost you more than you would get anyway. In addition, I do not own Linkin Park.  However, I'd love to have Chester, if anyone wants to give him to me!

"_And the shadow of the day  
will embrace the world in grey"_

_-Linkin Park "Shadow of the Day"_

Another month had begun; March this time, and with each new month there seemed to be another sad anniversary in the lives of Danny Messer and Lindsay Monroe. Today, it was Lindsay's turn for a bench mark date. Today it was March 7th. One year ago today, she and Danny had sat in a packed courtroom in Bozeman, Montana and watched on with a mixture of grief, anger, fear, hope and, relief as Daniel Katums was sentenced to death by lethal injection for the murder of three of Lindsay's friends and the waitress at Pete's Diner when Lindsay was only seventeen years old. She was twenty feet away when it happened, hearing the whole event, yet helpless to stop it. Daniel Katums or "the monster" as Danny called him, was going to be the 4th person executed in the state of Montana since the death penalty was reenacted in 1976.

However, Danny's own somber day was coming up in a matter of days. In five days, it would be the three month anniversary of the death of ten-year old Ruben Sandoval. While things had gotten better in the last two-and-a-half months since Danny had returned to work, he still had his bad days. Only now, he had someone by his side who could truly relate to how he felt with the lack of closure for him. Sure, Lucy Scott had been arrested and would be going to trial soon, but that wasn't the kind of closure Danny needed. Rikki had left New York and moved to New Jersey to be closer to her parents shortly after Ruben's death; and Danny hadn't known for sure if she still blamed him for Ruben's death, though he suspected she did.

In times like this, when the self-loathing and regret were too much for Danny to bear, he turned his attention to Lindsay. As they lied on the bed in her apartment, wrapped up in their own thoughts, but grateful for the other's company and support, Danny focused his thoughts on Lindsay; knowing she would see that he was trying to decompress his emotions.

"Do you believe in God?"

"I'm sorry, what did you just ask me," Lindsay replied, not so much shocked by his question, as she was that he was there, so engrossed she had been in her musings that she'd gone into her own world.

"You heard me. Do you believe that there is a God?"

She stayed quiet for several minutes, as she turned her gaze from the man beside her, to stare at the ceiling and contemplate her answer.

"Yes and no?" he supplied perceptively, a year of being in a relationship with her, teaching him what these prolonged silences usually meant.

Resting her right hand, which displayed the modest, silver promise ring adorned by a heart shaped, Emerald on her abdomen, she grasped his right hand with her left as she steeled herself to answer the question. Danny watched the small bauble, which he'd given her on the one-year anniversary of their first kiss, as his promise to always love her and protect her to the best of his ability, rise and fall with her gentle breathing.

"I grew up being taught about a loving, merciful God; but when the shooting happened, I just _knew_ that no loving and merciful God would let that happen to young, innocent people with their whole lives ahead of them," she took a deep breath before throwing down the gauntlet she knew would lead to a serious discussion, "but I've learned a lot since I was seventeen and my thinking has changed a bit."

"What have you learned?"

"I've learned that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people for no good reason. God gave people free will, and sometimes, people use that free will to do absolutely evil things or make a bad decision that can destroy, and even end, someone's life. Daniel Katums used his free will for an evil purpose. He killed four girls because he wanted to know what it felt like to be God." She shuddered at the cold reality of why he said he did it at his sentencing. "Lucy Scott was frightened and angry. In her anger, she fired a shot blindly, and killed a sweet little boy with a bullet meant for the man that hurt her brother; and in the aftermath of her actions, she destroyed and forever changed a lot of people."

Rolling over on his side to face her, Danny stared in awe at the woman beside him. She was so much wiser than her twenty-nine years, and looked at the world in a way only a deeply scarred, but truly loving and compassionate person could. To him, those were just more reasons to love her.

Feeling him watching her, Lindsay mirrored his position, and looked in his eyes with an amused smirk on her face. "What did you expect me to say; that I've learned people suck and we should all just have cats instead of children?"

Hearing the words, Danny couldn't help but to laugh before answering, "Well, I didn't expect the wording of your proposed alternate answer, but I certainly wasn't expecting such a solicitous, wise answer." After watching her take in his response for a moment, he continued. "I don't know, I guess with today being the one-year anniversary of his sentencing that you might be a bit…angry, I guess."

"I am angry. Some days, like their birthdays or the anniversary of the shooting, I get so angry I can hardly stand it Danny," she answered with blunt honesty, not the least bit afraid of what he'd think of her.

"Christ Linds, how do you do it? Get up and face the day, I mean. You know, when…" he trailed off, hoping she'd be able to infer what he was asking her despite his momentarily inadequate vocabulary.

"You mean, how do I go about the business of life when I'm so angry that I have one and they don't?"

Danny nodded in response, bringing her hand to his face, dragging his lips across her knuckles.

"When it gets too much, I have to slow down and look for something good in my world. I've learned not to look for something that's good in _the _world at large, because not all the good in the world affects me. It helps to narrow it down to what's good in my world. What are the good things that affect me?"

"What about a day like today? What's keeping you from having a breakdown today," he asked, knowing she just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry today. He knew this because the sound of her quiet weeping, next to him, was what had woken him.

"You; today I have you in my life. I'm not alone with this anymore. I know if I fall apart, you'll be there to hold me when I need it, but let me cry it out too. That helps. And counseling, over a year of that has helped a lot too," she spoke of the trauma counselor Mac had suggested she see once she returned from Montana.

Cupping her face, Danny brought his lips to hers, pouring all the love, tenderness and respect, he felt for her in that one kiss as he wiped a stray tear from her cheek. It was a

languorous, deep, passionate kiss that didn't end until the need for air became desperate.

Once the display of affection came to an end, Danny rolled onto his back again, pulling her with him, so that she was halfway lying across his body, her ear over his heart. Strong fingers filtered through her hair, his hand massaged her back with soothing strokes and he whispered calming words into her ear. All the while silent tears of grief, anger, desperation and isolation from the past decade, streamed down her face dampening the soft fabric of his blue long-sleeved crew neck.

After crying it out, Lindsay was content to just lie there, drawing invisible patterns on his chest, letting her thoughts calm from their frantic state.

"You good," he asked, growing worried at her prolonged silence. The affirmative nod he received as an answer did little to quell his concern.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How do you do it? I mean, it's only been three months Danny. How do you manage to get up everyday and do your job? What gives you the strength to compartmentalize your emotions and deal with the people on the job like usual," she questioned, curious about what he did to make his reaction to his trauma so different from the reaction she had to hers.

"Two things help me get up and do the job everyday, really."

"And those two things would be what," she asked, resting her palms on the muscular plane of his chest, and her chin on top of her hands to look him in the eye.

Danny thought she looked angelic like that. Despite the grayness of such a dreary day, Lindsay seemed to bring a warm glow into the room…like an aura or innocent goodness surrounding her.

"Well, the fact that Mac would hand me my ass on a silver platter for blowing off work, is a good motivator to show up in the first place. And Stella's promise to jerk my butt back into line so fast I'd get whiplash if I fly off the handle at a lab tech, suspect, or push you away and stress you to the point of getting sick again is another good reason to focus on the job at hand, and deal with one thing at a time," Danny spoke of the discussion he, Mac and Stella had about what was expected of him, when he returned to work.

"It was just a little cold, Danny, nothing to worry about."

"Are you kidding me, Montana? You had to see a doctor for exhaustion and a bout of bronchitis because of all that! You worked and stressed yourself into getting sick! To me, that's something to worry about!"

Lovingly kissing his lips, she smiled and replied, "While I'm glad that you're so concerned about me, and don't want that to happen again, I'm not going to let you blame yourself for it. I got myself into that state, not you."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't pushed…"

"Shh," she replied firmly cutting off his rebuttal before he could blame himself for yet another thing that wasn't his fault. "Even with your initial reaction to Ruben's murder, you still have handled yourself better than I did when it happened to me."

"Oh really," Danny replied intrigued. She'd been so instrumental in helping him through this in the healthiest way possible, that he wondered how she'd coped with such horror at the tender age of seventeen. "How did you cope?"

Letting go a rueful laugh, she explained, "I spent the first three weeks after the shooting, holed up in my bedroom. I only came out for the funerals and when Mom made me come down to eat something. Even when I did come out, I didn't talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary."

"Why didn't you talk? I gather that your Dad doesn't like to talk about it, but I'm sure your Mom would have listened to what you had to say," Danny replied. He knew Lindsay's dad was an ex-cop, who had been called to go to the hospital and take the statement of the lone survivor, whom hadn't been identified until her father saw her, in deep shock; covered in the blood of her friends, transferred when she'd frantically checked for signs of life, and the vomit from her own revulsion at the horror she'd just witnessed.

Shrugging, she replied matter-of-factly, "I was too consumed with hating the world and everyone in it to talk about my feelings. The way I saw it, one person, a single member of the human race, had caused my world to flip upside down; so to me, it made sense to lash out at everyone and everything, around me."

"So I take it you weren't exactly, Little Miss Sunshine, at that point?"

"One time, when I finally did come out of my room of my own free will for breakfast, I heard my Dad in the kitchen laughing at something my brother said. I got so mad, I'm pretty sure steam shot out my ears," she explained.

Danny chuckled as the image of a young Lindsay having a reaction only seen on a cartoon flooded his mind's eye."

"Anyway," she continued, knowing full well he probably had a hilarious image going in his head right now, "I ran downstairs and into the kitchen and screamed at him. I yelled, how could he have the audacity to laugh and be happy when my three best friends were dead, and all I wanted to do what die too? The next day, my Mom had me in a therapist's office."

Lindsay stopped and watched on, as Danny processed what she'd just admitted.

"Did you ever go from thinking about dying, to actually trying to kill yourself?"

She knew that was coming, and she wasn't sure how Danny was going to take her answer. She knew that even so, she owed it to him, herself, and the girls to be completely honest about what it was like for her.

"You know, being an eye witness and sole survivor of a crime is a strange experience. For weeks, I couldn't feel. I wasn't angry, or sad, or depressed. I was just…numb. Sure at the funerals I was sad. I lost my friends, the only people that understood me, and I cried for them. I also felt guilty. They were dead, and I was at their funerals without a scratch on me. I felt guilty that I was there, getting the scornful looks from the mothers. They hated me. Hated me for surviving, and hated me for coming to say good-bye to my friends. They acted like I had no right to be there; like it increased their pain to see me. And maybe it did hurt them; but I was hurting too. I think the worst was Kelly's funeral though. Her mother actually approached me and said if I had really been her friend, I would have stopped him from killing her daughter….or died trying. That night, we got a call. Patrice killed herself after the funeral."

She stopped talking, and let Danny wipe away her tears and kiss her forehead. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she continued.

"When I yelled at my Dad, and felt that anger, it was the first real feeling I'd had since that night at the diner. After that, and with seeing the therapist a few times, I started to feel again. First, it was the anger that they were dead. Then there was the guilt that I wasn't. Finally, about five months after the murders, the isolation and desperation to belong kicked in. I had gone back to school, and no one wanted to be friends with "that weird girl from the diner". People avoided me like the plague; as if I'd pulled the trigger myself. Already, I had problems relating to other people. I didn't want to open myself up in case they were taken away from me too. I just started to retreat into myself. I ate lunch away from the other kids, always had my nose in a book, and really took up an interest in being a cop, like my Dad. I tried to be happy, but I was so lonely, Danny. Before they died, I belonged somewhere in the world. I had my place, and people that understood me and liked me. Suddenly I didn't have that anymore."

"I started to have dreams. I dreamt about the shooting over and over again. In the dreams, I could hear them screaming. They were saying, 'help us Lindsay! Why are you hiding? Come out here and help us! We don't want to die!' And then one night, over the Christmas break, I had the dream again. Only this time, he came into the bathroom. He said I should have come out and spared one of my friends from the fate I was about to meet, but now, I was just going to be one more body. Then he pointed the gun at me, and pulled the trigger; and I woke up, terrified. I was sweating, shaking and crying. I knew I had to do something to make this stop, so I got up and went to get a drink of water. After this, it gets a bit fuzzy."

Taking in her shaking, pale form, Danny grabbed the quilt up from the bottom of the bed, and pulled it around them, taking special care to cocoon Lindsay as best he could before wrapping his arms around her again and speaking.

"That's okay. Just take your time and tell me the story as best you can recall."

"Are you sure you want to hear this? It's not something I'm proud of, and well…I'm afraid of what you'll think of me when I tell you," she admitted, not able to meet the intensity of his gaze.

"Linds, look at me," Danny commanded, gently but firmly and waited for a pair of teary brown eyes to meet his rapidly moistening blue ones. As her story went on, he felt her pain more and more intensely and it killed him to know she went through that at such a young age. "This is a part of you. It's your life. I want to know about it. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I made a promise a couple weeks ago, to always love you, and that's what I'm going to do; no matter what."

Satisfied that he really meant what he said, Lindsay continued on with her sordid tale. "Okay, so I went into the bathroom to get a drink. Now, after the murders, I started hurting myself….cutting. It made me feel better in some way. When I cut myself, I felt like I was letting out the ugliness that made me such a terrible person to have survived." Watching his features turn from, shock, to horror, then sadness and finally empathy and acceptance, she continued. "I remember, getting some pills out of the medicine cabinet and a razor blade. I don't remember what they were, or how many I took, but it must have been a lot, and I guess I really sliced my wrists pretty good too, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. Mom said I'd tried to kill myself and I had been there for two days already. Dad said that everything was going to be fine, and that I was going to get the help I needed."

Unconsciously, Danny ran his thumb lightly over the soft skin on her wrist, thanking whatever God was out there, that Lindsay had been spared and come into his life. "So, you stayed in the hospital?"

"I was there for another week. Then I started an intense outpatient treatment that lasted for eight months, until I went to college. I was home schooled the last half of my senior year, so that I could be at the outpatient center eight hours a day, three days a week. Slowly, I got better and was able to live my life again. Since they didn't find the guy that did this until a decade later, I devoted my life to giving others the answers I wasn't able to get for myself. "

"What about the guilt and the blame?" Danny asked, hoping to discern from her experience if his feelings of guilt and blame for what happened, would ever go away.

"I still feel guilty at times. I don't think that's something that ever completely goes away. When something good happens in my life, I feel guilty that they won't have that feeling of being loved by a wonderful man, or having a great job that really means something, the excitement of moving to a big city and meeting new people. That rush of accomplishment at getting a Masters Degree after all the studying, class work, tests, and overdoses of caffeine and study groups. The thrill of sitting in the bleachers of a football stadium, buried under a couple inches of snow and cheering your team on to victory."

Danny smiled as the image of him and Lindsay at a Giants game huddled in each other's embrace and under a warm blanket, flashed in his mind.

"I don't feel the blame anymore. I've come to terms with the fact that, despite my own musings, there was nothing I could have done to change what happened; just like there was nothing you could have done. You reacted to the situation you were in like a police officer would, Danny. Just like I reacted to my situation like a frightened seventeen year old would. I know, in the depths of my soul, that the girls have forgiven me for not being able to save them. And I know that when the mother's thanked me for putting their daughters' killer away, that was their way of saying they forgive me as well. It still hurts not to have them tangibly here, but they still live on in my memories and in my heart. I love them just as much as when they were alive, just like you still love Ruben."

"So, I just need to give myself time to heal, and accept what is, instead of dwelling on what should have been?"

She nodded in agreement.

"I just wish I knew if Rikki still blamed me for what happened. That's got to be the worst part now; knowing that she hasn't forgiven me for what happened and still blames me for her world being taken away from her," Danny replied sorrowfully, a lump forming in his throat.

"Maybe she has forgiven you."

"What do you mean?"

"The letter she sent you. Maybe that's her way of forgiving you. Do you still have the letter?"

In response, Danny reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the still unopened letter, he'd received from Rikki a week prior.

"Open it."

"What if it's just her telling me she hates me? Why should I read something I already know?"

"What if it's her telling you she forgives you, and realizes that Ruben's death wasn't your fault?"

When Danny looked at her skeptically, Lindsay continued, "Danny, whatever is in that letter can be either taken as eternal damnation, or an absolution, but you have to read it to find out."

Knowing she was right, he slowly opened the envelope and removed the delicately folded paper inside. Looking at Lindsay one more time, he unfolded the paper, allowing something to fall on his chest. Picking up the item, a bit bigger than a business card, Danny turned it over to realize it was a baseball card. More specifically, it was a 1941 Joe DiMaggio baseball card. It was Ruben's prized possession.

"Joe DiMaggio card from 1941. I always told Ruben that most die hard fans would sell a kidney to get one of those, so he was one lucky kid to have it," Danny explained as he handed the card to Lindsay.

"How did he get it?"

"Rikki's dad gave it to him. Told him it was a collector's item and would be worth a lot of money when he grew up," Danny explained as he began to read the letter aloud.

_Dear Danny,_

_Alden Nowlan once said: "The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise."_

_I say that because, as much pain as Ruben's murder has caused me, I forgive you. In my eyes, you did nothing wrong, so I don't think you need my forgiveness, but I believe you think you need my forgiveness. I hope by reading this, and knowing that I don't blame you for what happened, you will be able to forgive yourself. _

_I've spent the past couple months blaming myself for what happened. Not for what Lucy Scott did, mind you, but for what I didn't do. I've often wondered what would have happened had I called you when you didn't return at the expected time. I know Ruben would have still died, but I suspect if I had called you, we both would have known about it sooner. _

_We can't change the past Danny. What's done is done. Ruben is in heaven and God will be the one to ultimately deal with Lucy Scott. I know Ruben has forgiven us for not being perfect in our respective roles. Me, as his mother, and you as his role model. None of us can spend our lives living in the should have, would have, could have mindset that it's so easy to get into after such a tragedy. _

_Rest assured that I am okay. I hope that you are okay, and that one day we'll be able to reconnect; me, you and Lindsay, and be friends again. One can only get through something like this with people that understand and love us. Lindsay loves you Danny. I know when you feel guilty, responsible or inferior; you tend to push people away. I've seen you do it before, please don't do it to her too. You two, you're good for each other and you need each other. You have a good thing Danny; your job, your friends, Lindsay…all those are good things. Don't throw them away because you feel guilty. You have nothing to feel guilty for. _

_Please know that I don't blame you, and neither does Ruben. He loved that baseball card, and I know he would want you to have it. You'll always be in my thoughts and prayers. Take care of yourself, Danny. _

_Sincerely,_

_Rikki_

Folding the letter, and placing it on the nightstand, Danny looked over at Lindsay, surprised to see, that she too, had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"She forgives me," he said quietly.

"Now, do you think you can forgive yourself," she asked through her tears.

"It'll take time, but you've given me hope that I can do it."

"Me? But how did I give you any hope," she asked, truly bewildered that anything she'd said so far, was hopeful for Danny.

"You told me your story; your _whole _story. That shows me that there is a light at the end of the tunnel Linds. I can't fathom what you've had to go through psychologically to get to the point you're at now, but I know you've got to be the strongest woman on the face of the planet to make it through all that. I know that, as sure as I know that as long as I have you to lean on, and to lean on me, then I can get past this. We can get through anything and move into the future," he explained as he clicked off the light and pulled her closer into his chest.

"I miss them," she whispered as she began to cry.

"I know. I miss him too," he responded, also beginning to cry.

And there, in the bedroom of a tiny New York apartment, the bond between two of New York's finest deepened immensely as he cried for the little boy he lost, and she cried for her friends. Each with their own pain, but never alone with it. Never again, alone with the pain.

**The End**


End file.
